Month: March 2016

Poem to First Love

Poem to First Love

Matthew Yeager

To have been told “I love you” by you could well be, for me,
the highlight of my life, the best feeling, the best peak
on my feeling graph, in the way that the Chrysler building
might not be the tallest building in the NY sky but is
the best, the most exquisitely spired, or the way that
Hank Aaron’s career home-run total is not the highest
but the best, the one that signifies the purest greatness.
So improbable!  To have met you at all and then
to have been told in your soft young voice so soon
after meeting you: “I love you.”  And I felt the mystery
of being that you, of being a you and being
loved, and what I was, instantly, was someone
who could be told “I love you” by someone like you.
I was, in that moment, new; you were 19; I was 22;
you were impulsive; I was there in front of you, with a future
that hadn’t yet been burned for fuel; I had energy;
you had beauty; and your eyes were a pale blue,
and they backed what you said with all they hadn’t seen,
and they were the least ambitious eyes I’d known,
the least calculating, and when you spoke and when
they shone, perhaps you saw the feeling you caused.
Perhaps you saw too that the feeling would stay.

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Copyright © 2016 Matthew Yeager. Used with permission of the author.

15 Lessons From My Journey To Becoming A Better Man — Thought Catalog

Dennis OttinkYou wake up one day and decide things have to change. The life you have been living up to now has been good, but it could be better. So you set off on your journey of self-development. Guns blazing. It starts off well. It always does. Then comes the pushback. Then comes the triumphs.…

via 15 Lessons From My Journey To Becoming A Better Man — Thought Catalog

11 Small-Breasted Women Explain Why They Love Their Little Boobs — Thought Catalog

Nina Sever When it comes to breasts, it can be easy to think that bigger is better. After all, the average size of American women’s busts have been steadily increasing, from a previous average of 34B to the new average of 36C. We are a country obsessed with cleavage — so where does that leave women…

via 11 Small-Breasted Women Explain Why They Love Their Little Boobs — Thought Catalog

Silence, Japanese Gardens, and Peacocks — Discover

“I might not like the city, but I’ve found out that at this early hour even London seems to be somewhere less crowded, less franchised, its spirit – whatever of it that hasn’t been sold off – more visible.” A traveler rediscovers home in the wee hours.

via Silence, Japanese Gardens, and Peacocks — Discover

15 Things To Remember When You Feel That The World Is Against You — Thought Catalog

Nishe –1. This too shall pass. Everything has an ending – including the bad times and the dark phases. Always remember that it’s really not your entire world that is sinking, it’s just a point in your life. 2. You have more control than you think. You can always find a way to get out of the…

via 15 Things To Remember When You Feel That The World Is Against You — Thought Catalog

Spectrum 3: LoveLoveLove

Sarah Thursday

SPECTRUM 3 lovelovelove

I am honored once again to be selected by the editor of the Spectrum series, Don Kingfisher Campbell, for Spectrum 3: LoveLoveLove, an anthology about love poems. My poem, “Diamond” is featured along with many other talented poets and friends, including Michael Cantin, Teresa Mei Chuc, Beverly Collins, Boris Ingles, Karineh Mahdessian, Ellyn Maybe, and my girl, Raquel Reyes-Lopez. You can obtain your own copy along with the others in the series by going to the website spectrumpublishing.blogspot.com.

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Hair Ball, poem by Betsy Mars (MY MANE MEMORIES Poetry and Prose Series)

Great word play!

Silver Birch Press

Betsy purpletips (2)Hair Ball
by Betsy Mars

My hair has always been my manestay:
consistent and resistant to changing fashions,
the muted wallflower at the ball.
I refused to part with my part.
Harangues about my bangs met disdain.
Like Samson, my strength was in my length  —
so I believed, and so never made the cut.

In my twenties, a flighty fling with a perm proved temp.
I scurried back to the tried and true,
where my hair remained, unaltered.
I had never stressed about my tresses.
A bad hare day meant a wild rabbit ruckus,
outracing Mr. McGregor and his lethal shovel.

But then, through three winters, I hibernated,
wrapped in a cocoon of my own making.
I emerged with my heart in a web of uncertainty.
I coughed up the tangled hairball strands
and entered the body of my true self, now visible.
Back to my roots my mane…

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